


When the Storm is Through

by OomnyDevotchka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 14:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/749738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OomnyDevotchka/pseuds/OomnyDevotchka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Con men Gabriel and Crowley find someone that they can pass off as the long-lost Prince Sam Winchester, in order to get money out of his brother, Dean. They don't realize that they've found the real thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Storm is Through

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Once Upon a Sabriel](http://1upona-sabriel.livejournal.com/) challenge. My inspiration was the 20th Century Fox movie, Anastasia.  
> Art by [Raafling](raafling.tumblr.com/) can be found [here](http://raafling.tumblr.com/post/47453618744/my-art-for-the-once-upon-a-sabriel-big-bang).  
> Thanks to [Ego_Centrisme](http://ego_centrisme.livejournal.com/) for the beta!

            Gabriel had never believed in demons, had always thought they were a myth, a story told by mothers, nursemaids, and the castle cook, Bobby, to keep mischievous children in check.

            Then, when he was ten years old, he received definite proof that they were real.

***

            Gabriel knew that he should be in the kitchen, helping the cooks prepare the food for the banquet that would take place in an hour. Instead, he was peeking his head in the ballroom, munching on a stolen apple while watching the smartly dressed men and painted women, swirling around each other in their intricate dance.

            A few feet in front of him, two small boys were sitting on the throne. The elder of the two, Prince Dean, was speaking loudly, as was his way. “Look, Sammy,” he said, innocent twelve-year old face scrunched up in a mockery of an adult’s expression. “It’ll just be for a few weeks, and then I’ll be back, OK?”

            Prince Sam, who was still young enough to fidget in his finery and look adorable, rather than insolent, stuck out his lower lip in a pout. “I _know_ that,” he insisted, looking like he didn’t appreciate his brother underestimating his intelligence. “But I’m still going to miss you.” The kid’s pout increased to the point where it looked almost painful.

            Gabriel, who was only a kitchen boy, after all, didn’t know the young princes well, despite being around their same age. However, one didn’t have to know the boys personally to know how absolutely devoted Prince Dean was to Prince Sam.

            Dean’s eyes softened as he took in his little brother’s expression. “Hey Sammy,” he said softly, reaching up to tug a cord off of his neck. “Remember this?”

            Sam made a grab for the dangling cord “Yeah,” he said, bringing it close to his face to study. “I gave it to you for Christmas last year.”

            “And I haven’t taken it off since,” said Dean, eyes fond as he watched Sam examining the amulet. “So I was thinking, how ‘bout you hold onto that for me while I’m away?”

            Sam looked up, eyes wide. “But Dean,” he protested “it’s _yours_.”

            Dean reached out to take the necklace from Sam’s slack fingers. “You’ll give it back to me when I come back,” he said, putting the necklace over Sam’s head. The amulet was quite fabulously ugly, Gabriel could see, and it looked impossibly big on Sam’s small neck.

            Sam didn’t look like he shared Gabriel’s feelings about the trinket, looking down at it with something like reverence.

            “When you miss me, you can just look at this,” Dean said. “And then you’ll think of me, and you won’t be so lonely.”

            It was a sweet scene, Gabriel mused, despite the fact that the two princes were exchanging an amulet that was likely worth more than he would make in five years of working in the palace kitchens. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be able to see the rest of it, for at that moment, one of the cooks spotted him and chased him back towards the kitchen, so he could continue his work for the banquet.   

***

            It wasn’t a week after Prince Dean returned to the palace that everything went to hell.

            It was the middle of the night, and Gabriel was restless, unable to sleep even though his body ached from long hours of work. He shouldn’t have been in the part of the palace where the royal family slept, but Gabriel had a rebellious streak – it came from years of living on the streets, orphaned, before getting his job in the palace. In the streets, the only rule one had to obey was ‘don’t get caught’, and Gabriel had always taken that lesson to heart. Sure, the palace was heavily guarded at night, but the patrols were regular, and it wasn’t hard to slip into a nook or cranny when they passed.

            As a result, he was outside the King and Queen’s bedchamber when the fire started.

            It was just a flickering light underneath the door at first, and Gabriel stepped closer, curious. Then, he had heard a long, terrifying scream, and the voice of the King yelling “Mary!”

            He jumped back from the door as it swung open to reveal a tall, gaunt man. Through the open doorway behind him, Gabriel could see the flames, climbing up the sumptuous velvet curtains, engulfing a wardrobe.

            Startled and unsure of what to do, Gabriel looked up at the man still standing in front of him, and caught a glimpse of yellow eyes and a sadistic grin. That was all that he needed to get his legs working again, and he bolted down the hallways, heading towards the rooms where the two princes slept.

            As he ran, he began to hear screaming behind him, indicating that he was no longer the only one who knew about the fire. This only made his legs work faster, determined to get to the young princes. Gabriel had been drilled from the first time he set foot in the castle that protecting the royal family was the number one priority of the staff. He wouldn’t be able to help the king and queen, at least not as well as the adult guards could, but he was quick and unobtrusive and could help the princes get out of the castle.

            When he burst into Prince Sam’s room, the one closest to his parents’, Sam was already sitting up in bed, clutching the sheets to his chest and looking terrified. “What’s happening?” he asked, turning wide, fearful eyes on Gabriel.

            “We need to get out of here, kiddo,” Gabriel said. He stepped forward, intending to drag Sam bodily out of bed, but was interrupted by the door opening for the second time in as many minutes. He tensed up, expecting the worst, but was relieved by Sam’s cry of “Dean!”

            The elder prince took the time to lock the door behind him before rushing to his brother’s side. “C’mon, Sammy,” he said, and Sam obeyed him instantly, climbing out of bed and clutching his brother’s hand.

            Dean turned to Gabriel next. “Do you know what’s going on?”

            Gabriel could tell that Dean was trying for bravado, but he gave himself away by a slight tremor in his voice. Gabriel couldn’t blame him – after he had stopped running, he had started shaking all over. He didn’t particularly want to answer Dean’s question, didn’t want to see the look on the princes’ faces when they found out that their parents were in danger, but he had a much harder time ignoring Dean’s orders than Sam’s. “There was a fire in your parents’ room,” he said, looking anywhere but at either prince’s eyes. “I think…I think someone set it on purpose.”

            Dean’s face went pale, but his facial expression didn’t change. “We need to get out of here,” he said.

            Gabriel was all for that, and he strode towards the door before he realized that the princes weren’t following him.

            Sam, still clutching onto Dean’s hand, had dug his heels in and refused to move. Though Dean was older and stronger, he chose to turn back to his brother instead of forcing the issue. “Sam, we’ve got to go,” he said, voice gentle.

            “I’m scared,” Sam said quietly. “Are mom and dad gonna be ok? Are _we_ gonna be ok?”

            “Hey,” Dean said, kneeling down at his brother’s feet. Gabriel, who was still near the door, could hear the sounds of running and swords clanking and bodies colliding with solid objects in the corridor. He opened his mouth to tell Dean to get a move on, but Dean continued before he could get a word in. “Everything’s gonna be fine, I promise. I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you.”

            Sam nodded, and Gabriel could see tears glistening in his eyes. He didn’t let them fall, though, merely moved closer to his brother and closed his hand around the amulet hanging from Dean’s neck.

            Dean stood up, moving slowly so that Sam could continue clutching the cord, and look towards Gabriel, clearly expecting him to open the door.

            It was too late, though: the footsteps had stopped directly outside the door, and Gabriel heard an unfamiliar man’s voice say “Prince Sam’s in here.”

            He whirled around to face the princes, his mind racing. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the section of the wall that was painted just a few shades lighter than the rest. “This way!” he called, and the princes followed him towards it, all of them trying their hardest to ignore the pounding on the door.

            As Gabriel opened the wall, which was used, in better times, to allow the servants to move around the castle without being seen, the door to the corridor exploded off its hinges. “Run!” Gabriel cried, giving Sam a vicious shove.

            The sudden jarring motion caused the cord that Sam was still holding to snap, and the amulet flew backwards into Sam’s room, disappearing underneath a wardrobe. Sam looked back, stricken, but Gabriel merely shoved him again and slammed the wall segment closed, whirling around to face the men that were pouring into the room.

            One of them, big and burly, grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off his feet. His eyes flickered black as he took a second to just stare at Gabriel.

            Something Bobby the cook had always said came to Gabriel’s mind: “ _If you ever see someone with black eyes, run like hell – they’re a demon.”_

            He didn’t have time to remember anything else Bobby had rambled on about – how to kill them, for instance – because the demon threw him to one side like a rag doll, and everything went black. 

***

_Ten years later_

            A man walked out on the makeshift stage and stood tall, staring out at the nearly empty room.

            “My brother, I am so glad we’ve been reunited at last,” he said, clasping his hands to his chest and lifting his eyes heavenward. “Don’t you recognize me? It is I, Prince Sam, the prodigal son come home at last!”

            From where he was sitting behind a table, found and set up in a mostly intact room in the old palace to lend him some credibility, Gabriel let his head fall down to make contact with the wood.

            Beside him, a voice rang out. “Sorry, I’m afraid you’re just not what we’re looking for.” Satisfied with the pronouncement, Crowley leaned back, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

            Gabriel hadn’t yet bothered to raise his head from the table, so he had to listen to the shuffling of feet and angry swearing that faded away to determine when the man on stage had left. “What did I do to deserve this, Crowley?” he asked when he was certain the man was out of earshot, voice muffled slightly by the table.

            “Do you really want me to answer that question?” Crowley replied placidly.

            Sighing, Gabriel finally lifted his head off the table. “Was that the last one?”

            “’m afraid so,” Crowley murmured, consulting the list of names in front of him. “We might have to call this one a bust, Gabe. Not a single one of these men are capable of playing a convincing Prince Sam.”

            “There’s gotta be _someone_ out there who can do it,” Gabriel protested. “We just haven’t found him yet. We’ll regroup, get a little more money, make sure to get the word out about the auditions a little better…”

            Crowley sighed and got up from his chair, stretching out the kink in his back. “I don’t know, Gabe,” he said, voice much more serious than usual. “This is the third time we’ve tried this little scheme. Don’t you think we would’ve found someone already if they were out there?”

            Gabriel wanted to continue arguing, but really, he was just as dejected as Crowley about the whole thing.

            See, this was how it had started:

            In the aftermath of the demon attack that had killed the King and Queen, the country had been taken over by rebels, who had been working in conjunction with the demons. Under the new government, life was a lot harder than it had been when the monarchy had still been in place: food was scarce and expensive, jobs were few and far between, and everything everyone did was monitored and controlled by the new government, who were terrified of being overthrown themselves.

            Sure, some had benefited from the new order, but those people were mostly government officials and business owners. For the ordinary, working class people, like Gabriel, life had only gotten harder as the years went on.

            Amongst all the misery, though, there was one seed of hope in the minds of the people – Prince Dean. The elder prince had managed to escape that horrible night, fleeing to Paris by way of train. There were whispers of a counter-rebellion, of Dean coming back to reclaim what was rightfully his and kick the rebels out of the country for good.

            Frankly, Gabriel thought it was a load of bullshit. One man, no matter how royal his blood, couldn’t possibly hope to overthrow such a large group of rulers, especially since they had supernatural helpers on their side.

            No, Gabriel had a better plan for making his sorry life better, and it involved Prince Sam.

            While Dean had gotten out of the country safely, his brother had disappeared somewhere between the servants’ quarters and the train. The rebels had assumed he was dead, reasoning that an eight-year-old boy accustomed to luxury couldn’t possibly survive living on the streets in the dead of winter.

            However, many of the people believed that Prince Sam wasn’t dead, merely in hiding. Maybe he was too afraid to come out of hiding, or maybe the traumatic events of his childhood had wiped his memory clean, but either way, they said, he was _there_ somewhere, in a little house in the countryside or in one of the city orphanages, farming or working in a factory, just waiting for someone to find him.

            Prince Dean, from the safety of Paris, appeared to feel the same way. For years now, he had been offering a reward if someone could bring his brother back to him.

            The reward had grown steadily over the years, larger and larger, until it sat, at the present moment, at 100,000 francs. Gabriel wasn’t exactly sure what a ‘franc’ was, but it sure as shit sounded like a lot of money, enough for him to start a new life, in France or England or Germany or America, far away from the drudgery of his current life.

            Gabriel was completely confident that he would be the one to get the reward, if he could just find a man able to act like a passable Prince Sam. Sure, Dean had proven that he was difficult to dupe in this manner, dismissing countless ‘Prince Sams’ when he judged them to be fake. But Gabriel had something that none of the others had, something that would convince Dean that any old shmuck off the streets was his long lost brother.

            Gabriel’s hand fell to his pocket, stroking lightly over his ace in the hole.

            When he’d come to after being knocked out on that night, ten years ago, Gabriel had remembered, almost immediately, the amulet lying underneath the wardrobe. The only reason he’d picked it up was because he knew how important it was to the princes. At least, that’s what he told himself at the time.

            Gabriel was walking out of the old palace, thinking about how Dean would instantly believe his story as soon as he saw the amulet, when he heard an echoing crash from somewhere in the depths of the palace.

            Gabriel exchanged a look with Crowley, who merely quirked an eyebrow in the general direction of the noise. “Probably another urchin looking for a place to spend the night,” he commented.

            Gabriel shrugged, but walked toward the noise anyway. He wouldn’t begrudge someone a place to stay if that was really what was going on here, but he wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving until he was sure that everything was alright.

            The source of the noise appeared to be the old ballroom, and Gabriel stifled a sigh as he approached its gilded doors. There were certain places in the palace that he just didn’t like to spend time in, and the ballroom was one of them: without fail, he thought of that last ball every time he entered it.

            This time was no exception, and, as he slipped quietly through the doors, Crowley following close behind, Gabriel wished for a second that he was looking for the actual Prince Sam, instead of an actor. That would be a fool’s mission, though, and Gabriel knew it.

            Prince Sam was dead.

***

            “Shit,” Sam muttered, looking in dismay at the vase he’d just knocked over and broken. He wasn’t concerned about the cost of the trinket, but rather the noise it had made. Although the building he was in had clearly been abandoned years ago, it was possible that other homeless people could be staying there, and Sam didn’t really like the idea of fighting for shelter. He’d almost decided to leave and take his chances outside for the night, when he heard a voice call out, “Hey!”

            Sam winced. Caught.

            He turned around slowly, his mind racing. He could fight, if it came down to that, but, in his experience, the homeless tended to congregate in packs, and he wasn’t sure of his chances against multiple opponents.

            Sure enough, he found himself face-to-face with two guys as he completed his turn. Even though he had half a foot on both of them, easy, Sam had learned the hard way that height advantage wasn’t a guaranteed win, especially against people who were obviously veterans of the streets.

            The one in front looked especially intimidating, despite his size. His arms were crossed over his chest, emphasizing large biceps, and his golden gaze was calculating, sweeping over Sam as though he could see into his soul.

            Sam opened his mouth, ready to start stuttering out apologies for intruding, but the golden-eyed man cut him off. “What’re you doing in here, kid?” Despite his wary posture, the man’s voice was light, even friendly.

            Sam relaxed a little, and managed to give a much more coherent reply than he would’ve if the other man hadn’t spoken first. “I just needed somewhere to stay for the night,” he said, trying his best to look earnest and non-threatening. “I didn’t know anyone else was here.”

            The golden-eyed man gave him a long, searching look. Sam did his best not to squirm under the scrutiny, knowing it might make him look untrustworthy.

            Finally, the golden-eyed man broke out into a smile, and Sam felt his entire body relax. “’S’alright, kid,” the man said, walking towards Sam. “This place is big enough for all…of…us…” he trailed off, looking intently at something over Sam’s shoulder.

            Confused, Sam looked behind him to see what the golden-eyed man was staring at. He didn’t see anything of note, just a few shabby-looking trinkets, similar to the one he had broken earlier, and a dusty old painting. He figured it was probably the painting that had caught the man’s attention, since it was definitely the only thing worth noticing. Curious to see what was so fascinating about it, he leaned in closer, ignoring the golden-eyed man’s hiss of “Crowley!” and subsequent low conversation with his friend.

            It was done in a rich, ornate style, colors dark and bold even under the thick layer of dust. It depicted a small family. A woman, blonde, with a warm, open face stood next to a regal-looking man, dark in hair and features, with a crown perched atop his head. At the couple’s feet sat two small boys – a freckly one, leaning his fair head against his mother’s legs, with his arm slung around the other, who was smaller and darker, more serious-looking.

            It was nice, Sam supposed, but he still couldn’t see why the golden-eyed man found it so interesting. Sure, he vaguely knew the story of what had happened to the royal family so long ago, but it wasn’t as though the golden-eyed man could have missed the fact that he was staying in an abandoned palace. He must have expected to see _some_ relics of those who had lived there before.

            Sam was pulled out of his contemplation of the painting by another comment from the golden-eyed man. “You look just like him, you know,” he said.

            Sam turned back around to face them. The person who had been lurking in the shadows before, who Sam guessed was called Crowley, had finally stepped into the light, taking up a post beside the golden-eyed man. Something about Crowley, his piercing eyes or affected casual air, perhaps, made Sam feel uneasy. Nevertheless, he answered, making sure to direct his reply to the golden-eyed man. “Who?”

            “Prince Sam.” The golden eyed man indicated the painting. “The little one, looks like a kicked puppy?”

            Sam turned around to look at the smallest figure in the painting again. He supposed he could see some resemblance, around the eyes and the mouth, but he didn’t see what was so extraordinary about that. “A little bit, I guess,” he said, turning back around. “My name’s Sam, too.”

            He couldn’t really say why he’d offered that information, and briefly wondered if he should’ve given a fake name. He dismissed the thought after a few seconds, though: if anyone wanted to dig into his past, it would just lead them to the workhouse he’d lived in for as long as he could remember. It wasn’t like he had anyone important there.

            The golden-eyed man’s smile widened, making his eyes crinkle into little half-moons. “Sam,” he acknowledged. “I’m Gabriel, and this is my…business associate, Crowley.”

            Crowley tilted his head in acknowledgement from behind Gabriel. “Charmed, I’m sure,” he said.

            Gabriel ignored Crowley’s lack of enthusiasm. “So Sam, where you from?” he asked, walking up to Sam and clapping him on the shoulder (well, upper arm, really – that was as far up as he could reach) like they were old friends.

            “Um…” Sam started, confused by Gabriel’s sudden friendliness. “Nowhere, really.”

            “Just drifting then, huh? _Passin’ through_?” Gabriel asked. He had a slightly manic look in his eye, and Sam began to edge away, afraid that he was talking to some kind of lunatic.

            “Yeah,” Sam answered, thinking it would be best to just give Gabriel the answer he wanted. “I was thinking of getting out of the country. I want to make a fresh start, y’know?”

            Gabriel’s grin got even wider. “ _Well_ , it just so happens that Crowley and I are heading out of the country soon,” he paused, dramatically. “And we have an extra ticket.”

.           Sam was still a bit wary of these men, but it was notoriously difficult to get on the train out of the country, and he wasn’t in any position to be picky about who transportation came from. “Are you offering it to me?” he asked, hopeful.

            “Not exactly,” Gabriel said. “See, this particular ticket is for Prince Sam.”

            Sam frowned. “Isn’t he dead?”

            Gabriel flapped a dismissive hand. “They never found a body,” he pointed out. “It’s possible that he got away somehow. At least that’s what Prince Dean seems to think.”

            “The other prince is still looking for him?” Sam asked, casting another look at the picture, this time focusing on the older boy.

            “Never stopped,” Gabriel confirmed.

            For Sam, the idea of that kind of bond was entirely foreign. He’d never had anyone who cared about him enough to look for him when he went missing for a few hours, let alone ten years. Sam found himself wishing that Gabriel and Crowley would actually find the missing prince, despite the fact that the chances were slim. He was just about to tell Gabriel this, trying to find a polite way to get out of this conversation, when Gabriel spoke again.

            “You know, you _really_ do look like him,” Gabriel said, his voice contemplative. “The eyes, the mouth, the chin…it’s all there. What did you say your surname was?” Gabriel’s jewel-bright eyes were boring into Sam’s and he could hear the implication there, the question Gabriel was raising.

            “I – I don’t have one,” Sam admitted, mind racing. It couldn’t possibly be… “I kinda turned up on the doorstep of this workhouse ten years ago. I don’t remember anything that happened before that.”

            “Nothing at all?” Gabriel pressed, stepping forward. His movement snapped Sam out of his reverie.

            “No, nothing. But there’s no way _I’m_ the prince!” Sam snapped. He expected Gabriel to be angry, or taken aback, or _something_ , but Gabriel merely raised one eyebrow.

            “Pity,” said Crowley, who Sam had nearly forgotten about. “Guess you’ll have to find another way out of the country, then.” He turned around and walked towards the door, apparently done with the conversation. Gabriel spent another few seconds looking at Sam, his face inscrutable, before he turned and followed Crowley.

            Sam watched them go, feeling uneasy. On one hand, he was positive he wasn’t any sort of royalty – sure, he couldn’t remember his past, but he expected that someone with a royal upbringing wouldn’t have taken to life on the streets as easily as he had – but on the other…

            What if it was true? Sam had spent his whole life with nothing but a blank slate of memory and the clothes on his back, and he’d always hoped, wished, that he could find something _more_. If it was true, if he was actually Prince Sam Winchester, he’d finally have a family, a brother that could fill in the pages of his memory.

            He couldn’t let Crowley and Gabriel go, not when there was a chance, however small, that he could have everything he’d ever wanted.

            And besides, if it turned out that it _wasn’t_ true, he’d still be in a new country, ready to make a new start.

            Without his conscious permission, Sam’s mouth moved. “Wait!” he called, taking a few long steps towards Gabriel’s retreating back.

            From that position, he couldn’t see Gabriel exchange a triumphant look with Crowley.

***

`           Gabriel stifled a groan as he came to a halt outside the train compartment where he, Crowley, and Sam were staying. He didn’t want to go back in there and subject himself to Sam’s _bitching_ just yet.

            Gabriel hadn’t gotten much of a chance to assess Sam’s personality back at the palace. He’d _thought_ Sam was a nice kid, all puppy-eyed earnestness and eagerness to please. Turned out, though, that Sam wasn’t the type of person to take any shit – as soon as he’d had the train ticket in his hands, he’d started responding to every one of Gabriel’s jibes and quips, showing off an intelligence that Gabriel hadn’t expected he possessed.

            It was absolutely _infuriating_.

            However, it wasn’t a good idea for him to linger outside the compartment, as there were officials patrolling the corridors to make sure no one was on the train illegally.

            As Gabriel slipped back into the compartment, Crowley caught his eye. “How much longer, then?” he asked.

            “A while,” Gabriel said vaguely. While he had ostensibly left the compartment to find out their location, he’d actually been rubbing shoulders with a few of the other passengers, trying to get gossip. He’d managed to pick a few pockets, as well, but, since he didn’t like to steal from people unless he knew they were well-off, he hadn’t gotten much of a haul.

            Judging from the skeptical eyebrow Crowley gave him, he knew what Gabriel had been up to. Sam, who had been the one wondering where they were, rolled his eyes. “You didn’t even ask, did you?” he said, long-suffering.

            “I did too!” Gabriel retorted, ignoring how his words made him feel like a five-year-old.

            “The _conductor_?” Sam asked. His skeptical eyebrow was a pale imitation of Crowley’s but it had the same effect on Gabriel.

            “Well, not _exactly_ ,” Gabriel said.

            Sam rolled his eyes. “Of course,” he muttered.

            “Hey, if you need to know where we are so bad, _princess_ , why don’t you just go and ask for yourself?” Gabriel snapped back. He couldn’t help it: something about Sam just got under his skin. Maybe it was the way his hazel eyes flashed in annoyance or the way his mouth pursed up like he had just sucked a lemon, the fact that it meant that all of Sam’s attention was on Gabriel…

            Gabriel forced himself to stop _that_ train of thought, because being attracted to the annoying kid they were training to be a prince would be possibly the worst idea he’d ever had.

            And he was a street urchin, ok, he’s had a _lot_ of bad ideas.

            Sam huffed and stood up, his large frame stretching out and making the compartment seem much smaller. “Since I’m the only person I can _trust_ to do it,” he said with a pointed look at Gabriel as he slid back the door to the compartment and exited into the corridor.

            Gabriel could feel Crowley’s eyes on him. “Shut up,” he said, his voice coming out weaker and more pathetic than he would have liked.

            “I didn’t say anything,” Crowley said smoothly. “But now that you mention it…”

            Gabriel glared at him.

            Crowley continued, ignoring the glare. “I knew he was your type, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so smitten before.”

            “I am not _smitten_ ,” Gabriel argued. “I am _irritated_.”

            “Whatever helps you sleep at night, darling,” Crowley said.

            Before Gabriel could make another retort, the door to the compartment was thrown open with such force that it bounced off the opposite wall and rebounded a little. Sam stood in the doorway, eyes so wide that the whites were visible all around.

            Any complaint Gabriel thought of making about the less-than-graceful manner in which Sam had opened the door completely flew out of his head. “Sam? What’s wrong?” he asked, on his feet in less than a second and reaching out to grab Sam’s forearm.

            Sam’s breathing was heavy, as though he had just been running, so it took a few seconds for him to gasp out any words. “The papers,” he said. “They’re supposed to be written in blue ink.”

            Gabriel looked down at the passport on the seat beside him, which he had been keeping by his side in case of the sudden appearance of an official. The ink was red. “ _Shit_ ,” he cursed, immediately gathering up his things. The post-monarchy government was unnecessarily strict about travel papers, and being caught on a train out of the country with illegal papers would earn all three of them a one-way ticket to a work camp in Siberia.

            “Why do they have to change the bloody things so often?” Crowley grumbled. He was gathering his things up as well, but he moved more slowly than Gabriel, just as a general rule.

            “Come _on_ ,” Gabriel hissed, shoving one of his packs into Sam’s giant arms so that he could help Crowley.

            “Where’ll we go?” Sam asked.

            “Baggage car,” said Gabriel, shooing him out the door with a few flaps of his hands. “They never look there.”

            Sam looked skeptical, but he went through the door anyway.

            They made their way through the corridors to the very front of the train, walking at a slow, measured pace and keeping their heads down so as not to attract attention to themselves. Once, halfway through the train, they were forced to duck into another compartment to avoid a curious-looking official. Luckily, the compartment they chose happened to be populated by one of the friends Gabriel had made earlier, who understood what was going on without any of them having to say a word.

            When they finally got to the baggage car, Gabriel let out a sigh of relief and dropped the bags that he was holding. He found someone’s suitcase, tipped up on its side and sat on it, not wanting his ass to come into contact with the floor of the car, which was probably filthy.

            “If there’s a baggage car, how come we’ve got all our shit with us?” Sam asked.

            “In case we needed to make a quick getaway,” Gabriel replied. “Which we _did_ , so you should be thanking me for my brilliant plan.”

            “If it had already been in the baggage car, we wouldn’t have needed to carry it back here,” Sam argued. “Would’ve looked a hell of a lot less suspicious.”

            Gabriel rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to make a retort, but Crowley cut him off.

            “Children,” he said, condescending. “Do stop your bickering. Someone might hear you, and besides, it’s giving me a headache.”

            Sam huffed and sat down, folding his enormous body so that his knees were pressed to his chest. Gabriel looked on, fascinated: the position didn’t even seem possible. He was itching to make a smart-ass remark about it, but Crowley was right. They definitely weren’t supposed to be in the baggage car, and if anyone found them out, they’d be screwed.

            So he kept his mouth shut, something he was unaccustomed to doing. The silence stretched between them, long and awkward (although Crowley didn’t seem to be having a problem with it – he had pulled out another cigarette and was blithely ignoring his companions), until it was broken by a loud, metallic-sounding screech.

            “What the hell?” Sam cried, struggling to get to his feet as the car gave an almighty lurch beneath them.

            Gabriel leapt to his feet and ran to the door that connected the baggage car with the rest of the train, throwing it open so he could look out at the endless cars stretching out behind them.

            Only there _were_ no more cars behind them. It appeared that something had detached the other cars, leaving only the baggage car attached to the engine. As if that weren’t enough of a problem, Gabriel could feel the train below him picking up speed, beginning to go way too fast to stay on the tracks.

            It was obvious that this hadn’t happened naturally – the break in the metal that had held the cars together was clean, as if it had been cut with a knife. One look at it had Gabriel fearing the worst: demons.

            He turned back to where his companions stood, alert and silent and said “We need to get off this train. Now, if not sooner.”

            Sam opened his mouth to say something, but Gabriel cut him off. “The fucking train is going to go off the rails, princess,” he snapped. “And if I know anything about the way they work, and I _do_ , we’ve got demons on our ass.”

            He ignored Crowley’s groan of “God _damn_ it!” when the demons were brought up and continued “So if you want to live, we’ve got to bail.”

            Sam glared at him. “I wasn’t going to argue _that_. Can’t you feel how fast we’re going?”

            He could, of course, but he understood what Sam was implying. He glanced out the door, and the rate that the snow-covered landscape whipped by convinced him that Sam was right.

            If they tried to jump off, they’d be killed as soon as they made contact with the ground.

            Thinking quickly, Gabriel came up with another solution. “We’ve gotta detach the entire car, then,” he said. “It’ll slow down enough for us to jump off once it’s not hooked to the engine anymore.”

            Sam nodded. His hand went to his belt, and he pulled out a knife, larger than the ones that Gabriel had learned to carry on the streets.

            At Gabriel’s incredulous look, Sam shrugged. “What? Sometimes a bigger knife can be useful.” Without another word, he climbed out of the car and began to work on the joint connecting to the one in front, slamming the handle of the knife into it over and over.

            Gabriel curbed his comments about overcompensating, and turned to Crowley, who was frowning at the door on the opposite end of the car.

            “It’s not going to slow down quickly enough for us to avoid the demons,” he said. “We need to figure out some way to help it along.”

            Gabriel cast his eyes around the car. Nothing helpful was immediately apparent in the piles of luggage that surrounded them, until he spotted a heavy-looking chain. He made his way over to it, slightly off-balanced by the continued swaying of the car, and grabbed it, holding it up for Crowley to see.

            “An anchor,” Crowley said, nodding his approval.

            As Gabriel made his way to the back of the car, he heard a loud, clanging shriek, and felt the car shudder beneath him. Seconds later, Sam popped back inside. “We’re separated,” he said, wiping a hand over his sweaty forehead. 

            Gabriel raised his eyebrows, impressed and, without any further ado, pushed off from the edge of the car, climbing monkey-like until he was clinging to the underside. Though he wasn’t really afraid he’d fall off, he wasn’t exactly comfortable with the tracks racing by just underneath him, so his voice was a bit shaky as he called “Crowley! Hand me the chain!”

            The hand that came over the side of the car was decidedly _not_ Crowley’s. “Not _you_ ,” Gabriel groaned, looking up into Sam’s face.

            “Crowley’s busy at the moment,” Sam said, sarcastic, and he handed Gabriel the chain.

            Gabriel rolled his eyes but took it without any further complaint. Selecting a segment of sturdy-looking metal, he wrapped the chain around it several times, securing it with one of the hooks that the chain had at each end. Satisfied with his work, Gabriel went to pull himself back up into the car. Before he could manage it, though, there was a loud crack, and a piece of the track flew directly towards him.

            Gabriel had just enough time to consider just letting go of the car, one wild moment where he tried to decide whether being brained by a piece of track would be worse than hitting the frozen ground at such a high speed, before he felt a tug on his arm. Suddenly, he was back in the car, Sam’s fingers wrapped so tightly around his wrist that he could almost feel it bruising.

            There was a moment where everything stood still, and Gabriel found himself lost in Sam’s frantic hazel eyes, their chests just a breath from one another.

            Then Crowley, who had apparently been fussing with their luggage while Gabriel and Sam risked their lives, shouted “For the love of God, _come on_!”

            Gabriel wrenched his arm from Sam’s grip, but didn’t look away. “If we survive this,” he said “remind me to thank you.”

            He turned away then, finally, and tossed the chain out the door. It stretched out behind the car for a few agonizing seconds, before the hook caught on the tracks and caused the car to give a jerk.

            It didn’t slow them down much, but it was enough. “This is our stop,” Gabriel quipped, and the three of them jumped.

***

            Miles away, yellow eyes looked into a bowl of blood, watching as his victims escaped. He took a deep breath, tamping down his anger. It wouldn’t do for him to allow his emotions to get the better of him. After all, it was what had caused his downfall at the palace, that day.

            _Azazel strolled away from the room he’d just set on fire, smiling to himself at the sound of Queen Mary’s screams. It was a beautiful thing, really, getting to destroy someone’s life._

_The rebels’ souls that would be making their way to Hell in ten years’ time were a nice bonus, as well._

_Azazel drew level with the room where Prince Sam slept, and frowned as he peered inside. There was a body on the floor, but it wasn’t the Prince. Had he managed to escape Azazel’s cronies, somehow?_

_Azazel heaved a put-upon sigh and closed his eyes, accessing the well of power inside himself. When he opened them again, he was outside._

_Typical. He couldn’t trust anyone but himself to do these things properly._

_He let his feet crunch through the snow as he walked around the side of the palace, even though he was capable of muting the sound if he so desired._

_The palace had many doors, and each of them was open, allowing a steady stream of staff and visiting nobles to exit. Those who had already gotten outside were milling around uncertainly, as if they didn’t know whether to stay near or run away._

_Azazel could tell without exerting much energy that neither of the young princes were among the crowd. He frowned slightly, a flicker of doubt coming over him for the first time. If he didn’t follow through on his half of the deal, if every member of the royal family didn’t end up dead, he would lose his rights to the nearly one hundred souls he’d been promised._

_That just wouldn’t do._

_He had made his way around to the back of the palace, where the kitchens were, far away from the bustle of the castle. As he walked towards the door, entertaining a vague notion that the princes might have escaped this way, in order to avoid the crowds, he heard a small voice cry “Sammy, come on!”_

_Azazel grinned, and, in the blink of an eye, he was inside the kitchen, face-to-face with two small boys. “Hey there, boys,” he drawled, contemplating the best way to kill them. Slow and cruel, like their parents, or all at once, snapping their necks like twigs?_

_He was so caught up with his contemplation that he didn’t notice the Devil’s trap on the ceiling until he could no longer take another step forward._

_Out of the shadows, a gruff-looking old man stepped, chef’s hat on his head at odds with the thick book he had in his hands._

_Azazel took a second to look around the room, noticing the salt that lined the threshold between the kitchen and the rest of the palace. That explained why there weren’t any demons following the princes, though Azazel couldn’t say that made him feel any better about the situation._

_“Get behind me, boys,” the old man said, ushering the two princes behind him rather than letting them get close to Azazel in order to get out the door. The old man looked down at his book, and began reading: “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio, infernalis adversarii…”_

_Azazel gave a howl, every muscle in his body flexing as the pain of the words roared through him. He longed to stop the chanting, but the Devil’s Trap was sapping his strength._

_Not entirely, though. For a lesser demon, the Devil’s Trap would power them down completely, rendering them essentially human while they were within its bounds. Azazel had just that little extra trickle of power, though. He focused on it, blocking out the shocks of pain that the old man’s words were still sending through him, and gathered it up. He knew he would only have one shot at this, and since his powers couldn’t be used to break the Devil’s Trap, his best bet was to kill the old man._

_His power built to the breaking point, and he let it go._

_“…et fortitudinem plebe Suae -” the old man’s chant was cut off as his neck rotated a sharp ninety degrees. His body hit the ground with an unpleasant thump, and Azazel relaxed slightly, the pain in his body now only a memory. It would be a few moments before his power built up again to attempt to hurt either of the princes, but he was confident that he had them trapped: if they entered the Devil’s Trap to get out the door, he could grab them and kill them with his bare hands and if they went back into the passageway from which they’d come, they would run into other demons who could take care of the job. If they chose to stay here, Azazel’s power would either build strong enough to hurt them, or one of his human allies would find them._

_He wasn’t expecting there to be a fourth option. Without even having to look at the book that the old man had dropped, Prince Sam stepped forward, and, in a shaky voice that nevertheless pronounced the words perfectly, said “Benedictus Deus. Gloria Patri.”_

_In the split second before Azazel was forced to evacuate his vessel, he had locked eyes with Prince Sam, yellow clashing with hazel. In that moment, the souls that he would surely lose ceased to matter._

_He would have revenge upon this insolent child one day, and it would be sweet._

            Azazel shook off the memory on which he had been dwelling for the past ten years. The bowl of blood he was clutching swirled slightly, indicating that someone was trying to reach him.

            Azazel knew exactly who it would be, and so he was not surprised when Crowley’s face appeared in the blood. Before the other demon could get a word in edgewise, Azazel spoke. “Is there a reason,” he said, his words clipped “that you _helped_ our victims get away?”

            Crowley looked distinctly unruffled, in a way that Azazel could never pull off himself. “All in good time,” he said. “Anyway, wouldn’t you prefer it if you could go after Prince Sam yourself?”

            Azazel would, but he didn’t say anything. Crowley tended to get smug when he was right about something.

            “How’s that whole breaking out of Hell thing coming, by the way?” Crowley asked, unfazed that Azazel hadn’t answered his earlier question.

            “It’s coming,” Azazel said.

            “Well, you might want to move a bit faster. Our deal said that I would lead you to the prince, not kill him myself.” Crowley said. “I’ve already done my part: found a suitable con man, let him think it was _his_ idea to find the prince, notified you when we’d found a likely candidate… you’re not living up to your half, Azazel.”

            “If you’d have let the demons kill him on the train…”

            “…you’d have been disappointed that you didn’t get to do it yourself. I know you, Azazel, and I’m doing you a favor.” Crowley’s image was flickering, a sure sign that the blood he had used to make the connection was congealing. That was the good thing about Hell – there was never a shortage of fresh blood. “Just work on getting out of Hell, and I’ll take care of it on this end,” Crowley said. “You’ll get your revenge.”

            His image went away, leaving Azazel staring at a smooth surface once more.

***

            They’d been walking for over four hours, and Sam’s feet _hurt_. He didn’t want to complain, really, because it would probably make Gabriel call him princess again, but he needed to know what their plan was.

            “Are we going to _walk_ to Paris?” he asked, wincing at how whiny his voice came out.

            Gabriel noticed, if his smirk was any indication. “We’ll take a boat in Germany,” he said, voice condescending.

            “So we’re walking to Germany, then?” Sam replied.

            Gabriel rolled his eyes. “We’ll take a bus, your Highness.”

            They continued walking in silence for several moments before Crowley spoke up. “While we’re walking,” he said casually “we might as well study up on the Winchester family history a bit. You’re going to have to be pretty sharp to convince Castiel.”

            Sam frowned. “Who’s Castiel?”

            Crowley’s smirk was somehow much, much scarier than Gabriel’s. “He’s Prince Dean’s…well,” he said “let’s just say that he and Prince Dean are _involved_. No one gets to meet Dean without getting through him first.”

            Sam didn’t really know what part of that sentence to address first, so he decided to go with the most immediately pressing. “Wait, you mean I have to _prove_ I’m the prince?”

            Gabriel scoffed. “No shit, princess. Dean-o’s seen a lot of fake Sams at this point, of course you’re gonna have to convince him.”

            “But what if I’m _can’t_?” Sam asked, coming to a stop and turning around to face his companions. “I don’t know anything about my past, and it’s not like we’re _sure_ that I’m acually the prince.”

            “That’s what we’re here for, obviously,” said Gabriel. “And if you’re not the prince, then hey, honest mistake, right? You’re just trying to find answers, it’s not like anyone can begrudge you that.”

            Sam nodded slowly, still unconvinced. The idea of trying to convince a man he’d never met that he was his long-lost brother unnerved him. Still, Gabriel was right – surely Dean, of all people, would understand the need to find family. “Alright,” he said, voice slowly gaining confidence. “Guess we have a lot of work to do, then.”

            As he turned around, ready to continue walking towards Germany, Sam thought he saw a genuine smile on Gabriel’s face for the first time since they’d met.

***

            Gabriel sighed, lying down and staring at the wooden slats of the bunk above him. The ship around him rocked slightly in the waves, just enough to make his stomach give a little lurch.

            The last few days had been fucking _hard_ , and Gabriel didn’t really want to admit to himself why. Didn’t want to admit that Sam’s quick wit and intelligence had captivated him, the way he had remembered every fact Crowley threw at him with ease. Didn’t want to admit that the low burning attraction he’d felt since the first time he’d seen Sam was developing into something _more_ , something that he wasn’t sure he had ever felt before.

            Gabriel laughed quietly, bringing his hands up to rake through his hair. Christ, he’d only known the kid for two days and he was already getting this bent outta shape?

            And the worst part of it all, the absolute worst part, was that it seemed like it was a possibility. Because somewhere along the line, after the train but before the boat, the insults that Sam threw at him had become more affectionate, the banter less sharp. Then, there was the fact that Sam hadn’t seemed to care at all about the insinuation of Dean’s less-than-platonic relationship with another man, choosing instead to get all self-righteous at the fact that Dean wasn’t just gonna up and accept that some random-ass man was his long-lost brother, which Gabriel absolutely refused to find endearing.

            See, Gabriel wasn’t the type of guy who had feelings like these. Usually he found someone he liked, had a good fuck, and that was it. One, maybe two encounters and the man or woman would leave, satisfied, and he’d never see them again, get back to his life and the con.

            But something about Sam just messed him up, in a way that he’d never had to deal with before.

            Gabriel sighed again and shook his head at his own dramatics, shifting around in the small bunk as quietly as possible, so as not to disturb the burly stranger currently snoring above him. He’d volunteered to be the one to sleep in another room when they found out that there were only two bunks per room, because Crowley didn’t deal well with strangers and they couldn’t very well let their meal ticket out of their sight. Gabriel’s stomach had squirmed when Crowley had hissed that last part at him, uncomfortable with thinking of Sam in those terms, but a large part of him was grateful that it had shaken out that way. He needed the space, away from the temptation of Sam and Crowley’s knowing smirk, to clear his head and get himself back into the mindset of the con. Sam was a means to an end, that was all, a one-way, all expenses paid ticket to the high life, and Gabriel needed to remember that.

            Resolved, Gabriel began to drift towards sleep. He was almost there, the world going all fuzzy around him, when he was jolted back into awareness by a pounding at the door and a frantic “Gabriel!”

            The man in the top bunk gave a jerk and a grunt, probably pissed off at being woken up, but Gabriel couldn’t bring himself to care, because that was Crowley’s voice, and Gabriel had never heard him sound like that before.

            Gabriel was out of bed without a second thought, wrenching the door open as soon as he came to it. Crowley looked wrecked, face red and chest heaving as though he’d been running, which scared Gabriel even more than the shout had. Crowley, as a general rule, did not do anything that involved physical exertion. 

            “Crowley, what is it?” Gabriel asked urgently.

            Through his heavy breathing, Crowley gasped out “Sam,” which was all Gabriel needed to hear.

            “Where?” he demanded.

            Crowley pointed upwards, and Gabriel took off like a shot, taking the stairs two at a time until he found himself on the deck of the ship.

            What he saw nearly made his heart stop.

            Sam was walking towards the edge of the ship, steps slow and measured the way they never were ordinarily. His arms were outstretched in front of him, and a small smile was playing around his lips. He had to be asleep or possessed or something – there was no way that Sam, who had proven himself over the last few days to be brave, but cautious, would get so close to the edge of a ship without good reason.

            To make matters worse, as Gabriel stepped forward and called out “Sam!” hoping that his voice would be enough to snap Sam out of whatever trance he was in, the wind, previously calm, picked up. Within seconds, giant waves were crashing over the deck, making the ship rock wildly. Still, Sam continued walking as though nothing was happening.

            Gabriel swore under his breath and started forward, unable to run as quickly as he would have liked, due to the motion of the boat.

            Sam reached the rail, but didn’t stop or even slow down. Instead, still moving in that odd, slow way, he climbed up it, until he was standing on top, all six foot whatever of him silhouetted against the lightning-streaked sky.

            Heart in his throat, Gabriel willed himself to move faster. He called out Sam’s name again, desperate, only for the sound to be snatched from his lips by the howling wind.

            Sam swayed forward, his odd little smile growing larger as he seemed to look at something only he could see. Gabriel pumped his legs harder, only a few feet from his goal.

            Just as Sam lifted a leg to jump off the side of the ship, Gabriel reached out and grabbed a handful of his pant leg, and just _yanked_.

            Sam had the height advantage, but Gabriel was stronger than he looked, and besides, Sam was at a distinct disadvantage, unbalanced as he was. He crashed down to the deck in a tangle of too-long limbs. Now that they were closer together (much _too_ close, really: Sam had landed half on top of Gabriel, and the kid was _heavy_ ), Gabriel could see Sam’s eyes moving rapidly behind his eyelids, as though he were trying to keep them trained on something. As Gabriel watched, perhaps paying a bit too much attention to Sam’s long, damp eyelashes, Sam’s forehead wrinkled up, his face displaying a distress that was quite different from the look he’d worn before. He started to mutter to himself, a quiet “no, no” and struggled against Gabriel’s hold, sharply digging one of his elbows in Gabriel’s stomach.

            Winded, Gabriel’s grasp on Sam slackened, but Sam didn’t get up again. Instead, he awoke with a cry, sitting bolt upright.

            “Gabe?” he asked, looking disoriented. “What’s going on? Why are we on the deck? Why am I _wet_?”

            Gabriel just wheezed in response, the howling wind dying down around him.

***

            Crowley stepped up to the door of a house and rapped smartly on it, expectant look on his face. Sam, from where he was lurking in the back, gave Gabriel an odd look.

            Gabriel rolled his eyes and spoke to Sam in an undertone. “Crowley and Castiel have a strange relationship.”

            Sam frowned. “I thought Castiel was Prince Dean’s lover?”

            “Ugh, don’t say _lover_ ,” Gabriel complained. “That word gives me the creeps. And Crowley and Cas aren’t like _that_. It’s more like…mutually antagonistic friendship.”

            “Isn’t that the sort of relationship Crowley has with everyone?” Sam asked.

            Gabriel shrugged. “Touché. But there’s something more to their story. I’ve never asked. I don’t really wanna know.” His voice was getting steadily louder, which caused Crowley to throw an unimpressed look over his shoulder. His response was cut off, however, by the opening of the door.

            Blue eyes blinked at the trio. “Crowley,” the man acknowledged in a gravelly voice, apparently not deeming Gabriel or Sam worthy of his attention. “To what do I owe the displeasure?”

            “Castiel,” Crowley replied, parroting the other man’s tone of voice. “Can’t I stop by and visit an old friend?”

            “You could, if we were friends.” Castiel’s cool words were belied by the way he stood back and allowed them to step inside.

            Sam trailed in behind his companions, feeling a little like a lost puppy. Castiel’s house, although it was not furnished in an extravagant manner, had obviously been purchased by someone with money to spare, and the opulence made him uncomfortable. The nicest place Sam had ever been in was the old palace, the night he’d met Gabriel and Crowley, and the layer of neglect and decay that had sat over the place had kept it from being overwhelming. Castiel’s house was clean and fresh and bright, and Sam envied Gabriel and Crowley’s ability to fit in anywhere.

            Castiel led them to a sitting room, where Gabriel immediately sprawled out over a couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table. Crowley and Castiel sat in a manner that was a bit more sedate, but equally as comfortable. Sam found himself hovering awkwardly in the doorway, wondering if he should wait for an invitation to sit down.

            Gabriel noticed, and called out “Take a load off, Sammy. The couch won’t bite.”

            Sam huffed and rolled his eyes, but sat down with good humor. Judging by the glint in Gabriel’s eye and the hint of a smile playing around his mouth, he was teasing, and Sam couldn’t resist getting his own jab in. “No, but you might,” he said, settling down next to Gabriel.

            “You wish, big boy.” Gabriel gave an exaggerated wink, causing Sam to stifle a snicker in his hand. When he looked up, he saw that Castiel was staring at him, large solemn eyes boring into Sam’s own. He felt his smile fade, chastened by just one look.

            “Crowley tells me that you are Prince Sam,” Castiel said. “Is that true?”

            Sam knew that he should probably say yes, not just because that’s what Gabriel and Crowley have been coaching him to do the last few days. What came out instead, though, was “I don’t know.”

            Castiel looked surprised. “You don’t know?” he repeated.

            Sam sighed and leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his knees and lacing his fingers together. Might as well go all in. “I don’t have much memory of my life before I was ten,” he admitted. “It’s like something traumatic happened to me, and it’s all just…blank. But, I’m around the right age, and I apparently look like Prince Sam, so I figured it couldn’t hurt to try and find out more.”

            Out of the corner of his eye, Sam could see the horrified look on Gabriel’s face. From his own armchair, Crowley leaned forward, reaching an arm out towards Castiel. “He’s joking, of course -” Crowley began, but Castiel cut him off with an impatient wave of his hand.

            “Thank you for being honest with me,” Castiel says, sincere. “I know these degenerates have probably coached you on exactly what to say, but let’s disregard all that right now. Is there anything, any little detail that _you_ can remember from your past?”

            Castiel’s open, expectant look caused Sam to wrack his brains, trying desperately to find some nugget of information. “There’s something…” he started, as a picture slowly materialized in his mind. It was dim and blurry, but… “I remember that something was chasing us, something scary,” he said. “And there was this boy. I don’t know who he was, but he opened a wall, and that’s how we escaped.” Sam shook his head, clearing the wispy memory away. “That’s stupid, though. Must have been a dream or something.”

            Castiel was frowning as Sam finished, obviously disappointed at Sam’s vague memory. Gabriel, though, had gotten to his feet, looking thunderstruck. “I just need some air,” he said, catching sight of Sam’s questioning look. “Crowley, can I bum a cig?” He didn’t wait for an answer before he left the room, followed quickly by Crowley.

            Sam frowned as he watched them go, feeling a lot less comfortable without Gabriel at his side. He turned back to Castiel when he could no longer see them.

            Castiel’s eyes were knowing, and Sam felt a flush creep across his skin. He knew that his strange infatuation with Gabriel was probably obvious to anyone with eyes (Crowley had certainly gotten progressively smirkier over the last few days), but he didn’t like the idea of this man he hardly knew talking to him about it.

            Luckily, Castiel had enough tact to bring the subject back around to Sam’s past. “I suppose that I should give you the same test I give everyone, though I have no doubt that Gabriel and Crowley will have given you all the answers,” he said. “What was your mother’s maiden name?”

***

            Gabriel burst out of the front door, his lungs feeling too small to pull in all the air he needed. He brought his hands to his head, tangling his fingers through brown locks, pulling just hard enough to feel the pain.

            “What happened, Gabriel?” Crowley asked from behind him.

            Since Crowley was perceptive enough to realize that this was no time for teasing or jokes, Gabriel felt justified in cutting right to the chase. “He’s the prince, Crowley. He really is.”

            Crowley frowned, pulling his cigarettes out of his pocket and offering one to Gabriel. “If this is about Sam going against the plan, you shouldn’t worry about it,” he said. “Castiel’s all _noble_ and such; he’s probably got a better chance of meeting Dean now that he’s told the truth.”

            Gabriel took the cigarette that Crowley offered and the lighter that followed and lit up, taking a deep drag to calm his nerves. The rush of nicotine in his veins allowed the pressure in his head to abate enough for him to say “No, you don’t understand. I was that boy, the one who opened the wall. Our Sammy’s the real deal.”

            Crowley’s eyes widened. “Well _shit_ ,” he breathed, lighting up his own cigarette.

            For a few moments, the two of them stood in silence. Gabriel’s mind, however, was whirring. He didn’t want to admit it, even to himself, but he’d pictured this whole charade ending with Sam finding out that he wasn’t really the prince, and the two of them going off together, maybe to America, to bitch and bicker and fall in love.

            Clearly, that had been a pipe dream. No way in hell would Sam want to abandon his long lost brother for Gabriel.

            He’d just have to come to terms with the fact that after they introduced Sam to Dean, he’d never see Sam again.

***

            Sam fidgeted a little, fiddling with the cuff links on his brand new jacket. Having lived on the streets for as long as he could remember, he was unaccustomed to wearing clothing as fine as the suit Castiel had bought him.

            (Although Castiel who had provided the money, Crowley had been the one to insist they go shopping in the first place. Sam got the impression that clothes weren’t something Castiel particularly cared about, particularly when he’d seen the ugly trenchcoat he went around in.)

            Now that he was properly outfitted, he was ready to see Dean and find out once and for all if he had a family.

            His heart was going a million miles an hour and his palms were slippery with sweat. “I can’t do this,” he said abruptly, his entire body tensed up and ready to bolt.

            To Sam’s surprise, Crowley wasn’t the one who answered him. “Yes, you can,” Gabriel said, leveling Sam with as stern a look as he could manage and stepping forward.

            Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes. Ever since the trio had met up with Castiel, Gabriel had been distant, leaving Sam to listen to Castiel and Crowley fighting while he was being draped with fabric and jabbed with pins. It had been really pissing Sam off, because he’d thought that he and Gabriel had made a real connection, and it hurt that Gabriel could just act like the past few days had never happened. “So now that I’m jeopardizing your chances at the reward money, you talk to me?”

            “Stop being a little – wait,” Gabriel frowned. “You knew about the reward money?”

            Sam rolled his eyes again. “How naïve do you think I am? I was never under the impression that you two were doing this out of the goodness of your hearts.”

            Gabriel looked confused. “…and you played along anyway?”

            “Of course.” Sam didn’t understand what Gabriel was finding so confusing about this. “I still wanted to find my family. Doesn’t mean you’re a bad person, if you needed incentive to help me.”

            Gabriel looked like he was at a loss for words, but he had unwittingly achieved his goal of convincing Sam to see Dean. Sam stepped towards the door, through which Castiel had disappeared a few minutes previously, unable to summon the anger he’d felt towards Gabriel. Sure, it hurt that he had been ignored, but he should get used to it. After all, no matter what happened with Dean, it wasn’t like Gabriel was gonna want Sam around. Sam just had to accept that he liked Gabriel a hell of a lot more than Gabriel liked him.

            “Sam, wait!”

            Sam paused, his hand on the doorknob, allowing Gabriel to run up to him. Gabriel pushed a small object wrapped in a handkerchief into Sam’s hand. At Sam’s dubious look, he said “Just…show that to Dean, ok? And…have a nice life.”

            Gabriel’s tone was subdued, maybe even a bit sad, which threw Sam for a loop. Before Sam could think any further into it, though, Gabriel was backing off. All that Sam could think of to say was “Gabriel? Thank you.” At Gabriel’s nod, he turned to Crowley. “You too. I’ll see you guys around, I guess?”

            He turned and went through the door without waiting for an answer. He knew that it wouldn’t be the one he wanted to hear.

***

            Gabriel waited impatiently in line for the train, wanting to get out of Paris as quickly as possible and forget that this whole drama with Sam had happened. Not for the first time in the last few hours, he cursed himself for not sticking around long enough to take the reward money. Still, it wasn’t as though he really needed it – he was used to fending for himself.

            Besides, it wouldn’t feel right to take money for helping Sam, no matter how Sam himself felt about it.

            The line moved forward sluggishly, though the people around Gabriel looked just as impatient to leave as he felt. He tapped his foot a little, as though the motion would make the line go faster.

            “Impatient, are we?”

            Gabriel whirled around, recognizing the voice. “Crowley? I thought you weren’t coming with me!”

            “I’m not,” Crowley said. “I’m here to tell you that Sam’s in danger.”

            That caught Gabriel’s attention. “In danger? How do you know?”

            Crowley shifted slightly on his feet. “Call it a hunch?” he said weakly.

            “Crowley.” Gabriel stared his friend down, knowing that was the only way to get information out of him.

            Crowley sighed. “Fine.” He looked up, and his eyes flickered black.

            Gabriel took a step back, mind working furiously. A million little things that he’d barely noticed before suddenly came together to make a complete picture.

            The way that Crowley had gotten him talking about his time in the palace, a topic he normally avoided like the plague, after knowing him for less than an hour. The way that Crowley had seemed to give up on the scheme so easily, as though he knew that his lack of enthusiasm would motivate Gabriel more. The way the demons had found them in the first place, because they certainly hadn’t been after Sam before they had met him. His reluctance to help too much on the baggage car.

            Still, there were several things that still didn’t add up. If Crowley had been working against them the whole time, why hadn’t he sabotaged them on the train or the ship? He’d had a million opportunities to kill both Sam and Gabriel, and he hadn’t taken a single one.

            Gabriel’s confusion manifested itself in a small step back, his hand going to the knife on his belt, even though he knew it wouldn’t do any good. “You’re a _demon_ ,” he spat.

            “You don’t need to be so dramatic about it,” Crowley said. “I’m trying to help you.”

            “How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Though Gabriel was still reeling from the revelation, a part of him believed Crowley. The two of them had been living in each other’s pockets for months. Crowley was obviously a very good actor, but it was nearly impossible to pretend for all that time.

            “You don’t,” Crowley said. “But do you really want to take that chance?”

            Gabriel didn’t. “Where is he?”

            “Still at Dean’s, but Azazel’s probably going to lure him outside,” Crowley said. Out of his pocket, he produced a knife, and he held it out, hilt-first, to Gabriel.

            Gabriel took it, but gave Crowley a strange look.

            Crowley read the look correctly. “I know: most knives can’t hurt demons, but this one can.”

            Gabriel had no choice but to trust him. He may be walking into a trap, but if there was even the smallest chance that Sam was in trouble, he had to do something. He turned on his heel, ready to rush off, but was stopped by Crowley’s voice.

            “Gabriel?”

            Gabriel turned back around to face him, sure that his annoyance with being stopped showed on his face.

            “Make sure you kill him. If he lives through this, he’s going to come after me for breaking our deal, and I’d really rather not die.” Seemingly satisfied with his pronouncement, Crowley blinked out of existence right in front of Gabriel’s eyes.

            Gabriel stared dumbly at the spot where Crowley had been for a few seconds, before shaking himself out of it.

            He ran, knife clutched tightly in his hand.

***

            Sam couldn’t sleep. The events of the last 24 hours, Gabriel’s distance and his meeting with Dean, kept running through his mind.

            The thing he came back to, every time, was the amulet.

            _“Well, you can answer all the questions,” Dean said, green eyes narrowed with suspicion. “But why should I believe you?”_

_Unable to come up with an answer, Sam reached into his pocket, pulling out the package that Gabriel had given to him earlier._

_Dean threw him a skeptical look, but took it out of his hand, unwrapping it with one smooth motion. He held what was in it up to the light, and Sam let out an audible gasp._

_Memories flooded through him like an electric current. Him at eight years old, on a rare outing from the palace, spotting the necklace on a shopkeeper’s table and knowing he had to get it for Dean. The look in Dean’s eyes when Sam gave it to him, unrestrained joy and love. The promise he had given Sam to never take it off, and their mother’s gentle smile in the background as she witnessed the moment between her two sons._

_How the cord had snapped before they’d left his bedroom, and the panicked look in Dean’s green eyes as the train pulled away from the station, leaving Sam behind._

_Sam looked up at his brother (Christ, his actual brother), who was staring at the amulet, looking just as thunderstruck as Sam felt._

_Their eyes locked as Dean came out of his reverie, but it took his small, broken-sounding “Sammy?” for Sam to run across the room and pull him into a hug._

            What Sam didn’t understand, even after all the hours he and Dean had spent catching up, was how the amulet had come into Gabriel’s possession. When he’d asked Dean, Dean had just shrugged and said that someone must have stolen it and sold it on the streets. Sam didn’t really buy it. The only people who had ever known what that amulet meant to him were Dean and their parents. How could Gabriel have possibly known that it would convince Dean he was the real deal?

            Sam sat up with a sigh, abandoning the idea of sleep. He changed back into his street clothing, leaving the too-small pajamas Dean had lent him on the floor, and crept out the back door, being careful to keep quiet.

            Once he was outside, he felt a rush of relief. It wasn’t that he was _upset_ about finding Dean – hell, he was _thrilled_ about that – it was just that so much had happened so quickly, and Dean’s house felt stifling.

            Behind Dean’s house was a small garden, and Sam decided that now was as good a time as any to explore it. He slowly walked along the moonlit, hedge-lined paths, thinking about nothing in particular.

            It wasn’t until he was already deep in the maze of bushes that he realized that something had changed.

            He looked behind him, only to see that the hedges were closing up neatly, leaving no indication that there’d ever been a path there. Outside the maze, he could hear the wind picking up, howling, though the night had been calm before.

            Sam’s instincts warned him to get his back against something solid, in order to lessen the chances of something sneaking up on him. His only option, however, was the hedges themselves, and it didn’t seem like such a good idea to rely on magical moving shrubbery for cover.

            Instead, Sam ran forward, hoping that the garden would spit him back out onto the streets, where he could find cover from whatever it was that was after him.

            The wind had gotten so strong that it caused the hedges’ upper branches to whip around dangerously. One cracked Sam across the face, but he kept running, bringing one large hand up in front of him to protect himself from further blows.

            Without warning, the wind stopped. Sam put his hand down and found no trace of the garden anywhere around him. He was on the street, like he had hoped for, but something was wrong.

            He was on a street near the _Pont Neuf_ , where he’d been earlier that day. It was clear across the city from Dean’s house, but that wasn’t what worried Sam.

            He remembered this particular street as one of the busiest in Paris, but every single shop and house window was dark, and there were no automobile headlights in sight.

            He looked over his shoulder, unsurprised to see an empty alleyway behind him instead of the garden, and saw that there were no huddled lumps of street dwellers there, despite it being prime homeless real estate, no sad, drawn-looking prostitutes looking for a john.

            “Well, if it isn’t Sammy,” a voice said, and Sam’s head snapped around so quickly it almost hurt.

            Standing before him was a tall, slim man, who would be entirely nondescript if it wasn’t for the fact that he had yellow eyes.

              Sam began to back away slowly, but was stopped when his back crashed painfully into a wall that hadn’t been there a second before. He snuck another look over his shoulder to see that the place where the alleyway had been was now solid brick.

            “Now, now,” the man said, tone mocking. “It’s not very nice to try and run away, is it?”

            Sam found his voice. “Who are you?”

            The man gave a smirk, yellow eyes sharp and hungry. “I’m the reason your parents died.”

            Sam felt sick. He had always known that it was a demon that had killed the royal family, but the sorrow hadn’t really hit him until earlier that night, when he’d remembered his past. Yesterday, he might have shrugged the comment off and tried to run away. Today, though, he found himself stepping forward, his hands balled into fists, his parents’ faces fresh in his mind. “You bastard,” he said quietly.

            The yellow-eyed man laughed. “I’m hurt, Sam, really. I don’t want you to have such a low opinion of me.”

            Sam’s lips pulled back in a snarl, but he didn’t dare move any closer. As angry as he was, he knew that attacking a demon, unarmed, would result in certain death. He just had to keep the yellow-eyed man talking, and use his wits to get out of this. “Why’d you do it?” he asked, inching slowly along the wall. His mind traveled back to the things he’d learned from the palace cook, not really caring about the yellow-eyed man’s answer. They couldn’t cross a salt line, holy water burned them, you could send them straight back to Hell with a Latin exorcism ritual…

            None of those things really helped Sam right now, though. Sure, he could probably remember the exorcism if he tried hard enough, but without some way of restraining the demon, he’d be dead before he could get two words of it out.

            Still, it was worth a try. From the gleam in the yellow-eyed demon’s eyes, he wasn’t intending to let Sam out of this alive. He thought hard for a moment, ignoring the fact that the demon was still talking, and began to speak quietly. “ _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus_ …” Sam’s throat closed up, suddenly, and he choked.

            The yellow-eyed demon laughed coldly. “Sam, Sam, Sam.” He walked closer. Sam tried to sidle away, but found that he was effectively pinned to the wall by the demon’s power. The demon stopped in front of Sam, and reached out a hand to stroke over his cheek. “Did you really think I was going to let you do that?”

            Sam hadn’t, but he couldn’t speak up to answer. He tensed all the muscles in his body, determined to resist until the end, though he couldn’t see any way out of this mess.

            The demon finally pulled his hand away from Sam’s face, his expression turning ugly. “I’m going to enjoy this, he said, voice almost a hiss.

            “Hey!”

            Sam’s head snapped up, the intrusion of the new voice distracting the demon enough to loosen his hold over Sam. He was grateful for that, but the gratefulness was secondary to the panic filling his entire being, because he knew that voice, and he didn’t think he could take it if Gabriel got hurt. He opened his mouth to warn Gabriel, to tell him to get out, _now_ , but the demon starts speaking, and Sam’s whole world is turned upside down for the second time in the last 24 hours.

            “Well, if it isn’t Gabriel, the kitchen boy.”

            Just like that, everything snapped into place for Sam. How Gabriel had found the amulet, the distance after Sam had told the story about how he and Dean had escaped from the palace, everything.

            He didn’t have time to come to terms with this revelation, though, because the yellow-eyed demon had stepped away from him, advancing towards Gabriel.

            Gabriel just quirked an eyebrow. “Hey there, yellow-eyes. Long time, no see.”

            The demon inclined his head slightly. “Why don’t you just move along, kitchen boy?” he asked. “I have no problem with you.”

            “Since when does a demon _need_ to have a problem with someone in order to hurt them?” Gabriel asked. “Your kind are no better than animals.”

            The demon had closed almost all the distance between himself and Gabriel. When he next spoke, it was in a voice that was forcibly calm. “I’ll give you one last chance to leave,” he said “before I tear you limb from limb.”

            Sam didn’t dare say anything, lest he anger the demon more, but inside his head he was screaming, pleading with Gabriel to walk away and leave it alone. He didn’t think he could survive watching Gabriel die.

            But Gabriel was a stubborn bastard, and so he caught Sam’s eye over the demon’s shoulder and winked, before looking back to the demon and saying, very deliberately, “Go fuck your mother.”

            With a flick of his hand, the yellow-eyed demon sent Gabriel sailing through the air, hitting the wall of a house with a sickening thud.

            Sam was worried, of course he was, but he was more concerned about the object that Gabriel had tossed into his general direction, a split second before the demon threw him.

            Sam broke into a run, going for the object, which had landed about ten feet from him. Across the street, the demon was strolling towards where Gabriel was lying in a crumpled heap, apparently unconcerned with what Sam was doing.

            Sam reached the object and picked it up. It was a knife, sharp and wicked-looking, with jagged teeth on one edge and strange symbols carved into the blade.

            Sam knew that knives didn’t work on demons, but the yellow-eyed demon had reached Gabriel and pinned him against the wall by his throat, and Sam had to do _something_.

            He ran more quickly than he could ever remember running before, and buried the knife into the middle of the demon’s back.

            He expected the demon to turn around, unaffected by the wound, but instead, he began to convulse, choking. His grip slackened, allowing a barely-conscious Gabriel to slip to the ground. Sam darted around him to kneel at Gabriel’s side, and looked up at the demon just in time to see the light go out of his eyes.

            Sam didn’t particularly care, though, and he let the yellow-eyed demon fall to the ground, turning his attention to Gabriel. “Are you alright?” he asked, hands fluttering around Gabriel’s body.

            “The knife,” Gabriel gritted out.

            “What about it?” Sam asked.

            Gabriel gave him the best unimpressed face he could, considering the circumstances. “It can _kill demons_ , Sam. It’s kinda important.”

            “Oh, right,” Sam said, satisfied that Gabriel wasn’t in any immediate danger. He stood and flipped the demon’s body over with his foot so that he could pull the knife out of his back. It was covered in blood, and Sam grimaced slightly before wiping it off on his shirtsleeve.

            At his feet, Gabriel was struggling to get up. Sam knelt back down to help him up. “Seriously, are you alright?”

            Gabriel batted his concerned hands away. “I’m _fine_ , princess,” he said wryly. “Just winded.”

            They stood there looking at each other for a long moment. “So,” Sam started, then broke off, because he had no idea what to say.

            “So.” Gabriel repeated. Sam would take exception to the smart ass tone, but there was an almost vulnerable look in Gabriel’s eyes, so he merely blurted out the first thing that came into his mind.

            “Why’d you come back?”

            Gabriel smiled, the curve of his mouth self-depreciating. “Why the hell do you think I came back, kiddo? I didn’t want to be without you.”

            Sam had never heard Gabriel sound so vulnerable, and it broke a floodgate inside him. Bending down to get to Gabriel’s height, Sam kissed him and kissed him and kissed him until everything felt right again.

***

            It wasn’t until a week later, when Sam and Gabriel were on a leisure boat in the English Channel, reluctantly bankrolled by Dean, that Sam asked “Hey, if Crowley had a demon-killing knife the whole time, how come we didn’t just fight them on the train?”

            Gabriel, who was sunning himself on the deck, shirtless, scoffed and said “One demon-killing knife wouldn’t do much good if there were more than one demon, now would it?”

            Sam rolled his eyes. “We couldn’t have _known_ there was more than one,” he argued. “I’m just saying, it would’ve been a lot easier than jumping off a moving train.”

            “So I give you the means to kill the thing that destroyed your life, and you’re still not happy?” Gabriel propped himself on his arms and gave Sam a disappointed look. “Typical. I don’t know why I even put up with you.”

            Sam unfolded himself from his own deck chair, which was in the shade. Moving slowly, he walked over to where Gabriel was and bent down to whisper in his ear. “Because I’m good in bed?” he suggested, mouth curling into a smirk.

            Gabriel met his eyes and gave an equally dirty leer back. “You know it, kiddo,” he whispered, eyes trained on Sam’s lips.

            Sam pulled back before Gabriel could kiss him and sauntered away, making sure Gabriel got a good view of his ass. “Don’t forget, we’re going to dinner at Dean’s tonight!” he called over his shoulder. 

            He heard Gabriel give a theatrical groan and flop back down onto his deck chair. As Sam made his way back to their room, wanting to make sure he’s got everything packed up for when they arrived back in France, he couldn’t help letting a genuine grin creep over his face at the thought of the coming dinner.

            For the first time in Sam’s life, he had family, friends, and love, and he had never been happier.


End file.
